“When did I agree to that?”“Yesterday, when we were sitting on the patio. I asked if we could have wine with dinner Friday night. It’s Friday ...ight.”“You sure?” I asked.Rory’s eyes did their feline thing. She smiled, exposing her canines. “Which?” she asked. “That it’s Friday night or that you agreed we’d have wine?”I chuckled and shook my head. “Never mind.”A couple of minutes later, I served ice cold Petit Chablis into glasses and sat. She nodded with satisfaction, sipped the dry wine, and. By the time I got to the table, Ben and Lynn were already sitting down. Conversation over dinner was remarkably mundane. No one who happened to observe just the dinner conversation would suspect the events leading up to dinner, or the nature of our relationship in general. There wasn't even any sexually charged flirting going on. I guess Ben and I were just too drained.After dinner, things changed dramatically. Lynn got up and announced that it was our job to clean up—whoever doesn't cook, has. More

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